Precious Things
by Soleya
Summary: A new doctor, a new team, a new beginning... and a new hazard that could blow everything apart... Season 9, Sam/Jack est.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: Don't read this. No, seriously, I wouldn't if I were you. Because it drives me insane when authors post incomplete stories. But this one has been sitting on my computer for God knows how long, and I'm posting it to make myself finish it. So, okay, fine, read it... review it if you like (I like... *g*), but don't say I didn't warn you. Target completion date is this weekend, since I get three whole days._

* * *

_1905 Friday night_

Sam Carter pulled her front door tightly shut behind her and just stood in the darkness a moment, reveling in the peace and quiet of her home. She'd been on the run from the moment she'd stepped foot on base that morning – not that she'd recovered from her two-day offworld excursion before that – and she desperately needed an hour to herself before company arrived. Resisting the urge to just dump her things on the front table, she carefully hung her purse in the hall closet and moved through the dark house to the table to set down the mail.

Two hands grabbed her arms roughly from behind, pulling her firmly up against a strong, definitely male body as his lips sank to her neck. She'd wanted a bath, but this was good, too. "We'd better be quick," she murmured with a smile as her attacker began to nip his way up toward her ear. "Jack's plane lands any minute."

"I'm not worried. I can take him."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Desk work makes a man old and weak."

"I don't know. I still think he's pretty cute."

Irked, Jack spun her around to scowl at her. "Pretty cute?"

With a grin that just wouldn't quit, she prodded, "Adorable? _Snuggly_?"

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that," he growled, bending to throw her over his shoulder despite her shrieks of feigned protest. "I am _not_ snuggly, dammit."

"Of course not." Her laughter echoed in the dark hall and made the words nearly unintelligible. "You're a sexy, manly... man. Or something."

"Or something. Great." Stepping up to the bed, he tossed her unceremoniously onto it. "Take your clothes off, woman."

She was still laughing at him, but waggled her eyebrows playfully as she reached for the bottom of the zipper. "Yes, sir." Her jacket went first, then the long-sleeved black tee she wore at work before he pushed her to her back, his lips once again on her skin. "I missed you," she murmured as he kissed his way along her collarbone.

"I missed you, too. Caught an earlier flight." He trailed his way up her outstretched arm, and she knew his target. He always turned the bedside light on when they made love. It had made her uncomfortable at first, but the way he looked at her, touched her, kissed her – like she was the most precious of gems – set her at ease.

True to habit, he flipped the lamp on and sat back on his haunches to drink it all in. But the expression on his face was far from usual. "Why didn't you tell me you got hurt?" he asked, gaze glued to her torso.

"What?" she asked, confused.

The brown eyes that met hers were a bit irked and a lot worried. "What the hell happened to you?"

She couldn't crane her neck past her chest to see what he was seeing, so she shoved him off and headed to the bathroom. Facing the mirror, one hand flipped the light on... and rendered her even more confused. Her lower abdomen was dark, a purple shade that promised a far worse bruise to come. The color was echoed in splotches on her shoulders and upper arms.

Jack's face appeared behind hers in the mirror, watching her expression carefully. "You're telling me you have no idea what did this?"

"Actually, I... I think I know exactly what it was." Her fingers tangled in his, but not for reassurance. Lifting his hand, she aligned it perfectly over a set of four bruises on her upper arm.

He could only stare at the reflected image – his hand, and the perfect copy of it embedded in her skin - for a long moment as he struggled to quell the shock, fear, and disgust at himself. But he hadn't grabbed her that hard. He _knew _he hadn't. And that meant... "Put your clothes back on." His voice was far steadier than he'd expected. "I'm taking you to the base."


	2. Chapter 2

_1940_

Carter looked mortified, and Jack couldn't blame her. Their relationship had been put through the ringer before they'd even _had_ one, but they'd made it through the letters and meetings with their superiors without ever mentioning the word 'sex'. Which was a good thing – he'd been fairly certain even then that she'd run for the hills and never speak to him again if it would save her from discussing her sex life with her superiors. Obviously, Doctor Lam knew they were sleeping together. But had she ever actually _said_ that? He doubted it.

And now they sat, Sam picking at her fingernails to avoid his eyes while he watched her from his chair in the corner. "I'm sure it's gonna be fine."

"Mm-hmm," she answered tightly.

He scrambled to come up with some other platitude, but the curtain slid back abruptly to allow the doctor in. "Colonel," she greeted the patient on the bed. "What can I-"

Jack cleared his throat.

"Ah. General." She obviously hadn't seen him in the corner, and his presence sent a puzzled look over her face for half a second before she quashed it. She glanced between them once, twice, before settling back on Sam. "What can I help you with, Colonel?"

The fingernail picking increased in intensity as she opened her mouth. And moved it.

And no sound came out.

He took pity on her. "So, we were..."

He got only those three words out before it hit him – the thing that Carter had likely been fretting over all along. How bad this looked for them. "Uh, well, first off, this isn't what it looks like."

"What does it look like, General?" Lam asked evenly.

Crap. Why had he volunteered for this? "Well, we were, uh... you know. And..."

Hell. He couldn't do it either. He felt like a teenager, called on the carpet and scared to admit to his mommy that he'd felt up the neighbor girl.

"Colonel," Doctor Lam pressed, turning her entire attention to the woman on the bed.

Still unable to voice it, Carter lifted her shirt. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but it had gotten worse in the twenty minutes since he'd seen it last. It was deep purple, verging on black, and it made him nauseous.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one. When the doctor's gaze landed on his, professional had turned icy cold. But her voice betrayed nothing. "General, why don't you step out into the waiting area?"

"I'm good here." Indignation bubbled up in his chest.

"It wasn't actually a request."

Angry, he spun on Carter. "Are you gonna help me out here?"

"He didn't hurt me," she managed finally, cringing. "I mean, he didn't mean to hurt me. Really."

The small smile Doctor Lam offered her indicated she'd heard that one before. "Colonel-"

"No, listen, please." The blue eyes finally looked up, and a thousand emotions swam through them – but mostly fear. "I mean, we were... not the most gentle tonight, but it wasn't anything that could do this. I think... I think there's something wrong with me. I don't understand how this could happen."

Her plea clearly fell on deaf ears, as the glance Lam shot Jack hadn't warmed a bit. "Neither do I."

"Now, wait a-"

Jack's irritation got cut off by an unholy racket outside the curtain as the infirmary doors slammed open into concrete. "Doc! We need a doctor over here!" someone yelled among the bustle and moans of a man clearly in great pain. "Somebody get a gurney!"

"Would you excuse me a moment?" It was clearly aimed at Sam and Jack, though the doctor was already peeking through the curtain.

Nothing would make Sam happier than her exit. "Sure."

Lam had no more than pulled the divider behind her before Jack asked acerbically, "Does it bother you at all that she thinks I beat the crap out of you?"

"Of course it does," she snapped back, though softly. "What do you think that says about me, that I would let you?"

He hadn't thought of that, and it took the wind straight out of his sails.

"What happened here?" Doctor Lam's voice filtered through the flimsy curtain, reminding Sam uncomfortably that everyone could hear them, as well.

"He was working on the freight elevator, ma'am, and the cage came down on his leg."

"The safety malfunctioned?"

"No, ma'am. It opened right back up the way it was supposed to. Twice. I don't know how this happened."

Hadn't Carter said those same words not two minutes ago? Intrigued, Jack slid back his corner of the curtain. Sergeant Siler lay surrounded by medical staff, which was completely unsurprising. But his pant leg had been slit up to the knee, and the skin beneath was a rainbow of angry reds and purples.

A familiar rainbow. An uncomfortable tug in his gut pulled him to his feet, and his injured lover was right at his heels as he parted the divider further. "Does that elevator close hard enough to bruise?"

"No."

And they weren't the only ones connecting the dots. The glance Doctor Lam gave them was brief, but said everything they needed to know. Silently, Sam found Jack's hand and squeezed it hard.


	3. Chapter 3

_2015_

Teal'c and Hank Landry were already seated at the conference table when Daniel arrived, Cam Mitchell close at his heels. "General," the civilian greeted. "Is everything all right?" Getting summoned to the Briefing Room ASAP was usually a bad sign.

"I'm not sure, myself, Doctor Jackson," Landry answered, which utterly failed at settling Daniel's curiosity. "I believe the doctor will be up to explain it soon."

"Doctor? Where's-"

But before he could voice his concern, Doctor Lam entered the room. And then, to his surprise, Jack did. And Sam didn't. The dread that had nicked him before now settled in his stomach like a stone. "Where's Sam?"

"In the infirmary," his friend answered. "She and Siler are sick somehow."

"And _Siler_? Are they okay?"

"Is it contagious?" Cam asked.

That was his first question? Jack chose the empty chair next to the foolish new guy and sat in it. "I dunno. Let me see your arm."

Mitchell really should have known better by the way Doctor Lam's hand shot out in warning, but he did as he was told. The general grabbed it in both hands and twisted viciously in opposite directions. "Ow!" the younger man protested, more from the insult than the pain. But it _did_ hurt – as much as when Danny Ballo had done it in third grade.

Holding the arm up to examine the marks he'd left, Jack announced, "Nope. You're fine."

"Well, at least there's that."

"We'll check it again in a few minutes," Lam growled. "In a slightly less crude way."

"Crude but effective – that's Jack." Daniel offered up his own arm to the Jaffa sitting next to him to have the test repeated, then did the same for his friend. Teal'c didn't even flinch. And neither showed anything but slightly reddened skin. "Okay. So what's going on?"

"Both of them are black and blue for no reason. Well, no good reason. Siler's banged up from a standard run-in with an elevator door, for cryin' out loud."

"And Colonel Carter?" In response, Jack just raised his eyes to Teal'c's and held the gaze until his friend nodded. "I see."

"I'm afraid I don't have any answers yet." The doctor's announcement wasn't what they wanted to hear. "We can't even be certain their injuries are related, though it does seem strange that two cases of bruising this severe would strike on the same day."

Jack leaned forward in his chair. "Just to be clear, you do or do not still think I beat women up for fun?"

"It's looking increasingly unlikely," she answered uncomfortably. "And I apologize."

"Moving on," General Landry cut in. "What are our next steps?"

"Well, this sort of thing can have a number of causes. We're testing for all of them – vitamin deficiencies, clotting disorders, a number of diseases – but nothing's come back yet. And, to be honest, even if it does, that doesn't mean we've found the root cause. I don't think we can discount the possibility that Stargate travel has something to do with it – either through alien technology, or contact with something or someone."

"We can help with that," Cam spoke up. "It can't be too hard to figure out what they have in common."

"Siler and Sam?" Daniel asked. "Yes, it can. It could be almost anything."

"How? Officer, enlisted. Scientist, maintenance guy..."

"Colonel Carter and Sergeant Siler often consult with one another about their projects," Teal'c said. "And their personal vehicles."

"If they've spent time together recently, it's also possible that one inadvertently passed it to the other. Without knowing when that would have happened or how, we could have a much bigger problem. An epidemic," Lam put in. "That you three aren't showing symptoms is a good sign, but we can't be certain that Sergeant Siler and Colonel Carter are the only two affected."

Landry beckoned Sergeant Harriman over from the corner. "Contact all base personnel – here and elsewhere. Anyone showing symptoms needs to report back to the infirmary immediately."

"Yes, sir." He turned to leave, but had to halt a step for the woman in the doorway. "Colonel."

"Sergeant." Sam stepped past him and stopped just inside. She held a small pad of paper and offered it awkwardly toward the table. "Sergeant Siler and I have been compiling a list of all the projects we've worked on together recently. It's... not short. He asked me to pass on his apologies. His leg was bothering him too much to come up here."

Jack crossed his arms. "Kind of like your ribs?"

"I'm fine," she defended, mostly against the look he was giving her – the one that clearly said she should still be lying in he infirmary, where he'd left her. "I'd like to help. I have a feeling it might be hard to narrow down."

"She makes a good point." Cam shrugged. "The quickest way is going to be the others who come down with it."

Jack considered doing a second 'bruise check' on the man's neck, but refrained. "You sure do know how to put a point on things, don't you?"

"I just meant that-"

"Unfortunately, he's right," Doctor Lam spoke up. "As of this moment, we know nothing. Any information we can get is a step up. So we'll gladly take that paper, Colonel. And then you're coming with me."


	4. Chapter 4

_2310_

"Sergeant, report."

Walter pushed to his feet from the radio station as his CO entered. "General Landy, sir. All Gateroom staff have been cleared, as has the rest of SG-1 and Sergeant Siler's crew."

"Which would seem to imply that this is not a contagious illness. Have you reported that to Doctor Lam?"

"I have, sir. She implicated that not being contagious and not being contagious through casual contact are two different things. She's keeping a close eye on General O'Neill, sir."

"I see. Well, let's hope she's wrong, or we could have a lot of sick civilian wives on our hands."

"Sergeant Siler isn't married. And it would call into question how they became ill in the first place. Sir," he added uncomfortably.

"Yes, yes, it would." Though after all Colonel Carter and General O'Neill had gone through for their relationship to be approved, he couldn't imagine her canoodling around – and certainly not with Siler. "What about the rest of our people?"

"All crew heads are currently contacting their subordinates and will report back to me, sir. None of the field teams on base have experienced any symptoms; however, Captain Baker had a rather unfortunate incident with his car at home and is reporting in. His injuries may be completely unrelated. We have nearly two dozen more to contact on Earth, sir, and five teams offworld are currently unreachable."

"Unreachable?" Landry asked.

Walter checked his clipboard. "SG-7 is studying the caves on P4X-582. SG-13 is currently observing radio silence on P3X-122 in search of one of the Priors. SG-14 is surveying M2X-143 and is likely out of range. SG-16 is on P4X-124 and has reported multiple communications equipment failures due to particles in the atmosphere. SG-19 is also observing radio silence."

With a sigh, the general said, "I hate to do it, but I suppose we'll have to wait for them to check in, unless we have reason to do otherwise."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you been cleared, Walter?"

"Uh, no, sir. Once we've finished contacting the rest of base personnel, we'll take care of it."

Of course they would. While every member of the SGC was an unsung hero, unknown to the public, Landry knew that the ones with the thankless jobs worked every bit as hard as the field teams. Putting the needs of others before their own was something they all did, without even being asked. "Good work, Sergeant."

With a nod, the NCO went back to work.

~/~

Jack couldn't help but think, as he pulled a chair closer to Carter's bedside, that he'd be spending much of his foreseeable future there. It made his stomach lurch. "How are you feeling?"

"Discarded." The glare she shot him was blatant, but she set aside her laptop to speak to him. "At least Doctor Lam gave me a copy of the list I made and got me my laptop. She's been keeping me updated on the results, and I've been crossing things off as we go."

Knowing that it was likely to get him in trouble, he suggested, "Maybe you should try and get some sleep. It's late."

"There's a lot to do," she answered with a shake of her head. "The sooner we get this pinned down, the sooner the doctor can start on a cure."

"I heard they brought someone else in."

"Yeah. His daughter slammed his hand in the car door. Due to the multiple broken bones, they're not calling that one excessive yet."

"So... no one else." For a moment, he could only stare at her. He wanted to do so much more, but since the medical staff had given them the ugly white infirmary clothes and tucked them safely in, they'd pulled back the dividers and there was no privacy to be had.

That, and he was terrified to touch her.

"Well, that must mean just as much, right? If it really is only the two of you."

"Maybe." Forcing a smile, she said, "Sorry to ruin your weekend. I'm sure you didn't really plan to spend it here."

He couldn't help it – he put his hand over hers. "I planned to spend it with you."

For just a moment, the smile turned real, if sad. "Siler and I have low levels of platelets in our blood. That's all that's come back in the tests so far. Of course, the question is, why are they low?"

"Platelets," he echoed dully.

"The clotting cell. That's why we're bruising so badly – we're bleeding more easily."

Without consciously intending to, he yanked his hand from hers, then cringed when she sighed, "Jack."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know that."

Quietly, he asked, "Is it serious?"

"Maybe." Her voice was just as soft. "If the levels keep dropping, then yes, we're in trouble."

"We'll figure it out." He could only hope the look he gave her was as reassuring as he meant it to be and not as worried as he felt. Only she wasn't looking at him – she was staring intently at something over his shoulder. Intrigued, he turned around. "Reynolds?"

It caught the other colonel's attention, and he turned toward them from the infirmary doors. "Fancy meeting you here, sir."

Jack stood to approach him and fought down irritation that Carter was out of bed and on his heels. The bruising was evident on the side of his face, beginning just in front of his ear and trailing down below his collar. "So, what happened to you?"

With a smile that was a little too bright, Reynolds said, "Much the same thing that happened to you two, if the rumors I hear are right."

He felt more than saw her wilt. "Great," she muttered. "That's great."

"Newsflash, Carter," Jack hissed back. "They all know we're sleeping together." Though if he pushed it too hard or said that too loudly, he was well aware that could become past tense at any point.

Determined to move past it like the adult and officer she was, Sam straightened. "Who else?"

"Most of the team. Baker's already here, though they haven't called it officially yet. Peterson took a baseball to the shin tonight and it blew up. Bosco isn't showing any symptoms yet, but he's on his way in."

"That's probably a good plan. I should go tell Doctor Lam."

Jack glanced between the two of them. "Tell her what? You look like you've figured this all out."

"Not all of it," she said with a shake of her head. "But I know where. P4X-124. SG-3 helped scout security for the data site, and I went out to get their network online with the crystalline structure we found."

"Yeah, but what about Siler?" Last he'd checked, the man stayed mostly on base.

"They've had odd mechanical issues due to atmospheric conditions. Sergeant Siler spent a day troubleshooting their radios and generators." Catching his gaze, she added, "There were others, sir. There are almost two hundred people in the village nearby. And SG-16 is still there."

She only still called him sir when she was seriously upset, and it was catching. The knot in his stomach flipped to make itself known. "We'll get them back here pronto," he assured them. "Just hold tight."


	5. Chapter 5

_0100 Saturday_

The lights in the Gate Room blazed full force despite the late hour as SG-8 donned their HAZMAT gear and prepared to head out. Jack watched them through the window of the Briefing Room, early for their next meeting and hidden in the still-dimmed lights.

But of course, he wasn't alone. "Do you think they're alive?" Daniel's voice was soft and as concerned as Jack felt.

"Reports are, they've been in and out of contact since they went. Something about the atmosphere and the radios not getting along."

"So you think they're alive."

He waited through the last revolution to answer, 'til the wormhole's light burst through the space and made him blink. "I think they'd better be."

It took the archaeologist a moment to sort that one out. "She'll be okay, Jack."

Of all people, he knew Daniel would be the one to read the fear in his eyes behind the mask. And so he met his gaze straight on. "Yeah."

~/~

_0200_

"A total of nineteen people have been to P4X-124," Sergeant Harriman reported to the group around the conference table.

"Nineteen," Daniel echoed, concerned.

"We have reason to believe they are all ill?" Teal'c asked.

"Six of them are currently in the infirmary, with five showing symptoms. Sergeant Bosco may be infected, but hasn't been injured in any way to make it apparent yet. Doctor Lam was awaiting his reaction to the blood draw."

Jack had seen the golf-ball sized bruise the needle had given Carter, and nodded. "I'd find it hard to believe three of the men on that team were infected while the fourth made it out totally unscathed."

"Stranger things have happened," Cam put in. "To SG-1, even."

"True. Maybe he's lucky." Daniel shrugged. "Who else?"

"Airman Boyle worked with Sergeant Siler, and Airman Stolz carted several rounds of supplies back and forth. Both have been contacted and ordered to report in immediately. Three members of SG-11 helped Colonel Carter and SG-16 set up the scientific equipment. They are currently offworld and heading back to base, reporting major symptoms."

When he paused, Jack prompted, "That's not nineteen, is it?"

"No, sir. SG-13 made first contact."

Landry swore. It brought a moment of silent confusion to the table, as it was a rare occurrence. "Hank?" the other general prompted.

"SG-13 is attempting to track down and eliminate a Prior on P3X-122."

"Okay. Well, uh, that's important, sure," Daniel said to the ensuing silence, "but their health has to come first, right?"

Jack shook his head. "It's not that, Daniel. They're supposed to be on radio silence. I assume we've tried to contact them?"

Walter nodded. "Several times, sir."

"Several times. Great." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "So, at this point, the Priors may well know we have a team there. And the only people who don't know that are SG-13."

Tenting his dark hands on the table, Teal'c stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I will accompany the team sent to retrieve them."

"Me, too," Daniel volunteered. "I can't just sit here. I need to do something."

Jack sighed. "Yeah. Me, three."

"General-"

The warning lights and klaxons cut off Landry, with a voice through the speakers announcing, "Unscheduled offworld activation!" It brought the entire room to their feet, filing down the steps to squeeze into the Control Room as quickly as possible. "It's SG-8, sir," the tech announced.

The base commander tapped the radio. "This is Landry. Go ahead."

"We've located SG-16, sir. It looks like they tried to make it back to the Gate. We're going to need a retrieval team."

The general's discomfort was obvious in the amount of time it took his finger to strike the button again. "Casualties?"

"All of them, sir. They're all dead."


	6. Chapter 6

_0500_

"The autopsy on Major Wolfe confirmed findings from a few other blood samples we'd taken. There's an organism in their blood," Doctor Lam explained, hitting a button to bring a magnified image up on screen. She hadn't bothered to touch up her makeup, and the circles beneath her eyes from working all night were beginning to show. "It's something I've never seen before."

"Imagine that."

If General O'Neill's comment stung, she didn't let it show. Still, Daniel offered, "This isn't exactly the first time we've heard that around here."

"So I've read. The concentration is highest in SG-16 and seems to be proportional to the amount of time spent on the planet. But even Airman Stolz is testing positive, though he was only there for a few hours. The good news is that random blood samples we've drawn from the medical staff and around the base have all come back negative."

"It's not contagious," Cam ventured.

"Exactly."

"What's the bad news?" the archaeologist asked softly.

Her answer was apologetic and straight to Jack. "It's multiplying. The level in Colonel Carter's blood rose drastically between draws. And their platelet levels seem to be inversely proportional. If I had to guess, I'd say the organism feeds on them."

"English, please." But unlike every other time he'd ever said it, it wasn't snapped out with irritation. The general was quiet. Concerned.

"When trauma occurs, platelets join together to cause clotting. And after that, they secrete a chemical to help the blood vessel walls repair themselves. The lower the levels, the higher the incidence of bleeding and the harder to stop it if it occurs. And if they get low enough, spontaneous hemorrhaging can occur."

"SG-16 bled to death without cause," Teal'c surmised.

She shook her head. "No, I doubt they ever reached that point. Major Wolfe's blood tests showed hemolytic anemia, as well – destruction of red blood cells. Without the proper amount of oxygen flowing to their organs, they would have been fatigued, short of breath, dizzy – and once they fell and injured themselves, then yes, they bled to death."

"And that's happening to Sam?" Daniel's glasses were surely spotless, but he kept scrubbing at them in concern.

"No, not yet. Their RBCs are dropping, but not nearly as fast as the platelets. Which is good news, because the lifespan of a platelet is generally only about a week, but red blood cells take much longer. So if we can stop the organism, the patients should recover in reasonably good time." Turning her full attention to General Landry, she said, "We need to send a team back to P4X-124. I'm already doing blood cultures, but any information we can get about what does and doesn't feed it, where it's coming from... Anything could be helpful."

Jack's question came from nowhere. "How long was SG-13 on that planet?"

Walter dug quickly through his files. "Five days. SG-16, over a week. Colonel Carter, Sergeant Siler, Airman Boyle, and SG-3 were there approximately two days. Captain Menard, Major Rathbone, and Sergeant James were there nearly four days, and Airman Stolz's total time was approximately six hours."

"Colonel Dixon's team may still be alive." As usual, Teal'c was right on his friend's heels. "I believe a team should be deployed immediately."

"Agreed. Gear up. We're headed out in thirty with SG-5." He couldn't save SG-16, but Jack would be damned if another team would die out there of a disease they didn't even know they had. "Daniel, you and SG-8 are headed back to 124 to dig up whatever you can. Hopefully somebody wrote something down or you can talk to the locals. Report back how many are ill." Clearly finished with the briefing, he pushed back from the table and got to his feet, followed by his two former teammates.

Doctor Lam was already standing, which left two men at the table. Colonel Mitchell stared uncomfortably at his CO, who took a deep breath and pressed his hands flat on the table. "General," Landry said evenly, "could I speak to you in my office for a moment?"

Oh. Right. The SGC wasn't actually his anymore, and Jack had just neatly steamrolled the man supposedly in charge. He tried to feel bad about it and failed. This was what his second star was for, dammit. "Of course."

"Walter," the base commander called to the man shrinking into the far corner, "notify SG-5 and SG-8 of their orders. Add SG-12. Departure at 1000 – everybody needs a few hours of sleep."

"Yes, sir. Sirs."

Landry waited until Jack was well inside the office and both doors were closed before he said, "Respectfully, General, you're skirting the line here."

"What line would-"

"The one where you agreed that Colonel Carter was out of your line of authority."

Jack scoffed. "Carter doesn't have a damn thing to do with this."

"Really? You're telling me that if she wasn't lying in the infirmary right now, you'd still be running this operation?" When he didn't answer immediately, Landry pressed, "No. You'd be spending your time with the woman you love. Like you should be."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but that's kind of hard right now," he shot back bitterly. "Since she's sick, and all."

"I'm well aware of that." One hip perched on the desk, he took a deep breath and leaped. "And we both know things are apt to get much worse before they get better. If they get better. You're not leaving this base, Jack."

"I have to." His voice was thick, leaden. Like his stomach. "I have to do something."

"Yes, you do. Here. Jack, we have no idea how long it will take to retrieve SG-13 and no idea how fast this condition will progress. I understand SG-1 wanting to be part of the solution; I do. But four men are dead. Don't you think their families would give anything for another day with them? You have that. Don't throw it away."

To that moment, it had only been intimated – the knot in his gut and chill in his spine. To that moment, no one had actually said it – that she was dying.

And suddenly the fraternization policy he'd cursed for eight years made perfect sense. Because she'd been ill before, in danger, on the verge of death, and it had been upsetting. But now, now that he'd touched her, held her, told her how he felt and heard it in exchange, now it was world-shattering. He was nauseous, dumbstruck, his chest crushed beneath the weight of it all. He knew beyond a doubt that he couldn't just sit by her bedside and watch her die.

And he also knew he didn't have a choice.

"I'll keep you updated," Hank promised. "I'll let the Pentagon know you're staying for the near future and working limited amounts from this base. The distraction will help."

Knowing he would have to buck up but not yet trusting his voice to speak, he nodded and headed for the door.

~/~

To his inestimable relief, the rest of SG-1 had beaten him back to the infirmary. Carter was clearly tired – they all were – but she smiled at Daniel as he took her hand and said something Jack probably wouldn't have understood, anyway.

He envied them the ability to touch her so easily. He envied them having not seen the marks of their own hands in her skin. Knowing that it wasn't his fault didn't make it easier, nor did the knowledge that someday soon, the most minor trauma could kill her.

Compartmentalizing all of that, he stepped up between Cam and Daniel and smiled at her.

She grinned back, cheeky. "Washington's not letting you deploy, are they? No more swashbuckling for you."

"Exactly," he lied. "Damn desk jockeys."

"Mmm. Well, the rest of you need to sleep, at least."

"Indeed." Teal'c settled into the chair on her left, across from Jack's usual spot. Daniel and Cam snagged chairs from other places and dragged them over, as well.

With a chuckle, she chided, "That is _not_ what I meant. Go get some real rest. I'm fine."

Three heads shook in unison.

And they were far from the only ones. The last member of SG-11 was snoring beside his ill teammates. Three guys from maintenance were passed out in a corner. And one of the civilian scientists slept with her head beside Airman Stolz' hand. A nurse caught her glance and shrugged.

"We love you, Sam." Daniel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and flipped off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight."


	7. Chapter 7

_0958_

Lieutenant Colonel Greer oversaw a quick earpiece check with the nine men around him as the Gate began to spin up. Perhaps SG-13 had the luxury of not using radios on their long-term mission, but he didn't. He had a ticking clock. "As soon as the Gate's clear, we split into our two-man teams. You all have your UAV images. Any sign of our team, radio in with your location."

As the men around him chorused "Yes, sir!", Cam looked at Teal'c and spoke under his breath. "I know there are ten of us, but they are _covert ops_. It's their _job_. And we're supposed to find them?"

"It is fortunate that we have been paired together," the Jaffa answered, just as quietly, though that smile that always made Cam nervous spread across his face. "I have no intention of finding them."

"What?"

He was spared from answering when the Gate burst to life and a man on either side of it tossed two shock grenades through. Moments later, the MALP rumbled jerkily up the ramp and through the wormhole. After a moment for Landry and Sergeant Harriman to receive the images, the general announced, "You have a go. Good luck."

SG teams 5 and 12 (and half of SG-1) stepped quickly through the Gate, ignoring the dozens of unconscious Ori followers around the steps. So much for guards, Cam thought. SG-12 remained behind to return the MALP before they awoke, and the other six headed into the forest.

The pace Teal'c set was brutal, leaving Cam literally scrambling to keep up with him. It was difficult to keep his bearings, track the map they'd been given, and not fall on his face, but he was doing a passable job. Until... "Hey, aren't we supposed to head that way?"

"Indeed." The Jaffa neither slowed his pace nor changed direction.

"Okay, then what are we doing?" In looking at the map, he missed a tree branch and tripped. By the time he recovered and got to his feet, his 'partner' was nearly twenty yards ahead. "Teal'c? What are we doing? _Teal'c_!"

~/~

_1205_

Landry had been right about one thing: the work the Pentagon had sent over was good for Jack. Mostly, it – and the fact that he was going to have to get glasses soon to be able to read it all – irked him, which kept his mind off the sleeping woman next to him. And off the fact that she'd slept very, very late, even through the visit from the nurse who'd carefully peeled back the shoulder of her gown and taken blood through the central port they'd put in the day before. If her veins were weakening, they'd said, it was better to poke once and leave it than dozens of times.

Okay, so maybe the paperwork wasn't quite distracting enough. He made a mental note to ask Walter about the science labs. Whatever was going on down there always boggled his brain.

And reminded him of Carter. Damn.

"Headache?"

The blue eyes were sleepy, but she'd clearly been watching him for awhile. "A little. Eyes aren't what they used to be."

A smile curved at her lips. "Did you get any sleep, old man?"

"Yeah, some." He couldn't help but smile back. "You should've seen Mitchell standing next to all the gung-ho infantry guys. It was hilarious."

"Eight years ago, you'd have said the same about me."

The grin grew. "Eight years ago, I _did_ say the same about you. Just not where you could hear me."

She raised an arm to smack him lightly... and then remembered how bad an idea that was. Awkwardly, she put her hands back in her lap and started picking at her thumbnail again. "How about Daniel and SG-8?"

"They've already sent back all kinds of stuff from the crystals and around the site. The whole med staff is here running it."

"I'm sure they are. Pull the drape, Jack."

"What?"

He'd clearly heard her, so she just waited for him to process the request and the implications of it, then do as she'd asked. Cocooned off, he sat back down and settled his elbows on the bed. "What's going on?"

Her voice was soft, cognizant of the thin divider. "They're dead, aren't they?"

"Who told you that?"

The look she gave him was wilting. "Where are they, Jack? Even if this were contagious, there's no reason to keep SG-16 isolated from the people already infected. You found them a long time ago and just didn't tell us. Because whatever this is... it already killed them."

Not entirely trusting his voice, he just nodded.

"When?"

"Around two or so."

It wasn't what she was asking, and he knew it. "When?" she asked again.

"They'd been dead at least a day."

"God. That's, what, five days from exposure?" She was rapidly approaching four.

"Six. And none of you were on that planet as long as they were," he pressed. "None of you are that sick. We're gonna figure this out. But you need to... What are you doing?"

"Hand me my clothes," she ordered, tossing back the sheet to sit up.

This would be so much easier if he were still her CO, if he could verbally smack her back into bed and keep her there. "Not a chance. You're not going anywhere." But he couldn't touch her, so he settled for looming over the bed.

"I'm gonna take a look at the samples they brought back. Maybe they're missing something. I need to help them."

"No, you need to _rest_," Jack insisted.

"I'm fine." Her eyes met his, fierce. And terrified. "I can't just sit here and wait to die. I have to do something." And with that, she pushed off the bed to her feet.

With any luck, it was just that she'd stood up too fast. Or low blood sugar from missing breakfast. But more likely, it was the low platelets and early onset anemia that sent her pitching off balance and into him as her knees gave out. He caught her as gingerly as one could possibly stop someone from hurtling toward the floor, carefully letting her wilt instead.

He could get her back into bed himself, or he could do it gently, but he couldn't do both. "Tell me again how fine you are," he murmured into her ear before turning his head. "Nurse!"


	8. Chapter 8

_1600_

"Are we gonna stop to eat lunch at any point?" The days were long on this planet, but Earth time, Cam was about three hours past hungry. "Or drink something? Or just, I dunno, _stop_ like normal people do?"

Teal'c stopped so abruptly that Cam slammed right into his broad, hard back. "I am not 'normal people'," the Jaffa announced.

"Right. Thanks for that." His nose hurt.

"Eat quickly."

As the alien perched neatly on a fallen tree and unwrapped a protein bar, Cam chugged a good deal of water and rummaged through his bag for his MREs. "Look, Teal'c, I'm a pilot. I hate to admit this, but after eight years of tromping around with you guys, Jackson was probably way better qualified for this. I have no idea why General O'Neill chose me instead of him."

"I do."

Well, at least there was that. "Why?"

"If P4X-124 contains documentation regarding this illness, Daniel Jackson is most likely to translate it," he explained. "And your presence on this mission serves my needs far better than Daniel Jackson's could."

"Uh... Care to share how that is, exactly?"

"No." Finished, the Jaffa stuck the empty wrapper in his pack and stood. "I will scout the area while you complete your meal."

And he disappeared before Cam could ask anymore questions. The MRE pack hadn't quite finished heating, but he'd feel like an even bigger fool complaining about that, so he shoveled it into his mouth half-cold. He was mostly done when Teal'c returned, and he, too, shoved the remnants in his pack.

Once more, the alien took off through the woods. "Hey, you dropped something," Cam said.

"I did not."

"Yes, you..." He was sure of it. He'd seen the little glint as it had fallen through the leaves. "Yes, you did!"

When he turned around, solid, the Jaffa's face left no doubt that his word was gospel. "_I did not_."

What, was dropping something a mortal sin in Jaffa-land? Cam hadn't been around long enough to know, but he didn't dare countermand the guy again. "Okay, okay. You didn't."

If anything, the confrontation had given the man _more_ purpose. With a sigh, Mitchell broke into a jog and tried to keep up.

~/~

_1730_

"The radio transmitter modifications Sergeant Siler made are working," Daniel's voice reported through the tinny speaker in the Control Room. "With the extra equipment, we've managed to set up repeaters all the way to the village."

"How bad is it there?" Jack asked. Behind him, Doctor Lam and General Landry were just as tense. They had fifteen of their own infected, but if it had somehow spread to the village, it could be ten times as bad.

"That's the thing," the speaker said again. "None of them are sick."

Landry beat the other general to the button. "Are they somehow isolated from the base site?"

"No. The village is a bit hard to get to, on the other side of the mountain, but the villagers spent quite a bit of time with SG-16 both here and at the camp. They're really upset about the news, but they have no idea what happened."

Confused, Jack spun on Doctor Lam. "'Splain!"

"They're... immune somehow," she said. "They must be." It was her turn to key the radio. "Can you convince them to give you a blood sample, Doctor Jackson?"

"Several are already on their way to you with Sergeant Donovan, but it'll be a couple of hours before he reaches you. We're digging for more information in the archives here. How are they doing?"

"Not well," she answered tightly. "Captain Menard and Major Rathbone were exposed longest, and they are worst by a long shot. Most of the rest are beginning to show symptoms of anemia as of today – except Airman Stolz, who is covered in bruises but insists he's fine." She sighed. The next bit would be news to both generals, as well, but she might as well tell them all at once. "We infused a blood sample with extra platelets to see if that was a feasible treatment, but all it did was increase the rate of organism growth. We are treating the hemolytic anemia with every tool available. Menard and Rathbone will be receiving their first transfusion of red blood cells this afternoon."

The silence stretched a moment before the archaeologist said softly, "I can come back."

"What you're doing could help, Doctor Jackson," Lam said gently. "Remember that."

"Yeah. Tell her hi for me. Daniel out."


	9. Chapter 9

_2200_

"We will stop here."

Cam managed to stumble over to a tree in the failing light and leaned against it to keep upright. "Are you sure? I bet I could make it another, I dunno, thirty feet before I just fall over and die there."

Teal'c merely cocked his head. "This will do."

"What is this, some kind of hazing?"

"I am unfamiliar with that term."

He thought it was pretty clear. Walking at that speed for a solid twelve hours was a rare form of torture. "Did you do it to Jackson? Make his life miserable to prove himself?"

"I did not."

The officer slid down to sitting. "So I'm special. Great."

"Indeed."

The smile that made its way across the Jaffa's face was even creepier at dusk, and Cam frowned. "Don't even think about asking me to get back up right now. I'm armed."

Settling in himself, Teal'c started on another protein bar. "I do not believe there is reason to at the moment. Eat. We will need to move again later."

"You make zero sense, you know that?" But he dug through his pack for food, as well. "How long did it take SG-1 to figure you out?"

"Several years. But I was different then," he said with what might have been a Jaffa shrug. "I do not believe it will take you as long."

"Well, then, there's hope yet. How long, you think?"

"Not before you eat."

Cam snorted. "That's a joke. Nice. I get it."

He'd even get a chance to eat his dinner hot this time – which was good, as cold military mac 'n cheese was never, ever appetizing. It wasn't exactly gourmet warmed up, either, but it could have been far worse. He took the opportunity to savor each bite, washing it down well with his canteen - stalling. He was one hundred percent positive that Teal'c would set him back on the death march the moment he finished, even in complete darkness.

It was a good fifteen minutes later when he tucked the remnants away. "Okay, crazy alien man. I'm ready to resume my torture now."

"That will not be necessary."

"Could you be just a _little_ less-"

"Hands in the air, gentlemen." The order came from the trees, which deflected and altered it until it had no specific direction. Four bodies emerged from the darkness, all armed.

And all Air Force. "Mitchell?" the voice asked again. "Teal'c?"

"Colonel Dixon?" Cam asked, scrambling to his feet.

The voice lowered his rifle first, followed quickly by the other three. Yes, that one was definitely Dixon. "What the hell are you two doing all the way out here?"

"Looking for you. Radio silence, and all. We had to come after you."

"For what? We're not due to check in until tomorrow, if my watch is right."

"No, you're... right." It was too dark to see bruises at this distance, so Cam stepped closer. Closer. By the time he stopped, he was staring at Dixon's ugly face from mere inches away. The colonel merely raised an eyebrow.

It was Teal'c who broke the silence. "Colonel Dixon, are you not ill?"

The ranking man planted a hand solidly on Mitchell's chest and moved him backward an acceptable distance. "Say what, now?"

"Every member of the SGC who has set foot on P4X-124 is gravely ill, yet you seem to be well."

He shrugged. "I feel fine."

"Any weakness, fatigue?" Cam asked. "Unexplained bruising?"

"Hell, we've got bruises out the ying-yang," Dixon said with a chuckle. "But we've got damned good reasons for all of them. Bosworth here got into a tangle with a couple of Ori followers, and Wells tripped and busted up his elbow. The luck of that one, I'm tellin' ya."

"Sorry, sir," the dark figure to Cam's left said.

"I believe you should return to the SGC immediately," the Jaffa spoke up. "Perhaps your symptoms have not yet manifested. But if you are truly not afflicted, your condition may be of use to Doctor Lam in her search for a cure."

"Sure. Let's move along, fellas." Turning to Teal'c, he swung an inviting arm in the direction of the Stargate. "Age before beauty."


	10. Chapter 10

_2235_

The generals came from two different directions, but arrived at the door to the medical lab only seconds apart. "Thanks for inviting me to the party," Jack said, holding open the door.

"You deserve to know." Landry didn't even pause to look at him – there was little time to waste. "What have you found?"

Doctor Lam stood in front of a stainless steel counter with a microscope and four small petri dishes. "Not what I expected to. Doctor Jackson and SG-8 did a fantastic job with these samples; they're from four very different people. The first is a woman who's never been near SG-16's work site, and for the most part, her blood looks no different from yours or mine. No organism, no antibodies. The next three have all been exposed at some point, to varying degrees: one was exposed for a short time, long ago; one has been to the site off and on for years; one just took her first trip there two weeks ago with SG-13. Here's the kicker – all three of them have at least a small amount of the organism in their blood, and not one shows any sign of antibodies for it. They are _not_ immune."

Jack and Hank exchanged a look. "They're also not sick," the two-star said.

"Right. Because the stuff that's in their blood is inactive somehow."

"Inactive," Landry parroted.

"It's literally just sitting there," she explained. "The platelet levels on these samples are nowhere near low enough for concern, and there's no evidence of ruptured RBCs. I even went so far as to inject one of them with extra platelets from my own blood, and nothing happened. But when I added a bit of Sergeant Siler's infected blood to it, the count plummeted."

As far as Jack could tell, that was the first good news they'd had. At least, it seemed good. "So... how do we deactivate them?"

She cringed. "I'll let you know when I figure that out. None of the antibiotics, antivirals, or antiparasitics we have have made any difference at all."

"Yeah, but..." The two-star scrubbed at the back of his neck, trying to put the idea into words. "If it's not _them_, then it's something around them, then, right? It has to be."

"Environmental," she answered with a nod. "I would agree."

"Then why don't we take them there? If we know that's where the answer is."

"I thought about that," she sighed. "But all I'm certain that would accomplish is removing a dozen very, very ill people from appropriate medical care. And potentially exposing them to something worse. The water the villagers drink isn't treated or sterile, for example; giving it to a group of patients with compromised immune systems is just plain irresponsible. And more, nothing SG-8 has sent have had any effect on the blood sample I've taken thus far. What are we supposed to do there – set up a tent and force-feed them a smorgasbord and hope for the best?"

Nodding, he relented, "I guess I just-"

A nurse burst through the door of the lab. The panic on her face and streak of blood on her uniform nearly stopped Jack's heart. "Doctor, we need you. _Now._"

Lam flew out the door, the two generals on her heels.

_Not Carter. Not Carter. Not Carter._

But the nurse flew past his lover's bed to Major Rathbone's. The bed was surrounded by medical personnel – a wall of white blocking whatever had happened from his view. The screaming monitors, however, made it pretty clear. "Status," she barked.

"The central line blew out," someone reported. "It couldn't take the added pressure we were putting through it."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Jack couldn't see the poor girl who said it, but he knew immediately that she'd had her hand on the needle.

"Dammit. He's bleeding internally. Surgery, stat." As Doctor Fraiser had done so many times before, Lam put one foot on the leg of the cot and swung herself briskly up to stay with her patient, hands attempting to heal the impossible. It took mere seconds for Rathbone and company to disappear. Seconds later, someone shut off the shriek of the monitors.

And then it was silent.

They were all headed down the path Rathbone had just taken, and Jack knew he wasn't the only one thinking it. Ten sets of eyes burned into his face as he stood next to Hank.

He should say something brave, he knew. He was their CO, their compass, their strength.

He also knew he'd never manage it. Not with Carter laying there with them.

Avoiding their eyes – especially hers – he strode out of the infirmary and let the door slam behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

_0400 Sunday_

Cam was no less surprised when SG-5 melted from the trees at the rendezvous point. They were every bit as silent as SG-13 had been, moving easily around the dry branches without a sound. The pilot had never worked in such terrain, and he envied them their ease of movement. Every muscle in his body ached from the amount of ground he'd covered – and his attempt had been nowhere near as graceful.

"Greer," Dixon greeted.

"Sir. I expected to be carrying you out of here," the Marine answered.

The gruff older man stuffed another piece of protein bar in his mouth and spoke around it. "So I've heard."

"I'm glad we're not."

"Aww. You care. I'm touched."

Greer cleared his throat and continued, "Because the Ori have more than tripled their guard at the Gate. We're not going to get out as easily as we got in. They're too spread out for our three shock grenades to be particularly effective. I'm afraid it'll be bloody."

"That's a shame, but as long as it ain't our blood," he answered dryly. "Sunrise is in about two hours. They know we're coming, so the darkness is the best advantage we're gonna get. Unless, of course, we just decide to send Mitchell in as a scout, then toss the grenades when they all go running after him."

SG-12 just shook their heads, but the Marines and the rest of SG-13 snickered. And Teal'c had that wacky knowing smile again, white teeth the only visible part of him in the darkness. "What?" Cam defended indignantly. "What's so funny?"

It was in the silence and knowing glances that followed that it all finally clicked, sending his jaw straight to the dirt for a long moment. "_That_ was the plan," he managed, one angry finger in the Jaffa's chest. "You had no intention of finding them because you wanted _them_ to find _us_. You dragged me through this forest at break-neck speed just so that I would make a mess of things!"

"As I said," Teal'c answered evenly, "I believe you will come to understand me very soon."

The snickers grew louder.

"You... _You_..."

"Your lack of stealth was not the sole reason for our speed," he continued. "It was likely their camp was deeply hidden between the village and the Stargate. We had much ground to cover."

"If it makes you feel better, Mitchell, it wasn't just the tornado you left behind you," Dixon spoke up. "It was the breadcrumbs that really caught our interest."

He blinked. "The what?"

The colonel dug briefly in a pocket before tossing a small object at him. He could only follow its trajectory through the occasional glint from the moonlight, but Dixon's aim was true, and he caught it against his stomach. Around him, though he couldn't tell _what_ they were holding, the members of SG-13 each displayed a few.

"We were trying our damndest to figure out who they belonged to. And not a one of us got it right. The colors sure did stick out in the leaves, though."

So Teal'c_ had_ been dropping things, which brought Mitchell a mild sense of relief that he wasn't losing his mind. Squinting, he held the tiny object close to his face in the darkness.

And growled at the tiny blue bar with white stars, then turned his menace to his teammate. "Are these my ribbons? _Did you go through my pack_?"

"Your pack?" Bosworth laughed so hard he choked, leaving Wells to pound him on the back. "You keep them with you? We were sure you'd brought them from home for this!"

Greer crossed his arms. "Just why are you carrying your commendation ribbons offworld in a combat zone?"

"Well, that's an easy one, sir," Russell piped up, all too eager. "You never know when you'll find some hot girl to impress."

The raised-brow look shifted to his young sergeant. "Oh, yeah? You carry yours, too, do you?"

"Hell, no, sir." Raising one arm, he struck his best bodybuilding pose, flexing his bicep. "I get girls with the guns. Then again, I'm not a pilot."

Much to Mitchell's chagrin, that led to laughter again. Irked, he snatched the rest of his commendations from the remaining members of SG-13. "This better be all of them."

"I am certain it is not," Teal'c said. "O'Neill will replace them."

"Oh. So, he was in on this plan. That's... that's great."

"Calm down, Colonel," Dixon chided gently. "Let the boys have their fun. The next two hours are gonna suck."

It was true. They were heading into battle on the ground – yet another thing Mitchell wasn't so good at. He'd gotten his dream post, but it was nothing like flying.

"I think this is a good time to point out, sir, that if at least one member of SG-13 doesn't make it back to the SGC alive, this whole mission is for naught," Airman Wells spoke up. "If it comes to it, I volunteer to be that guy."

His CO grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Such a burden to carry. Let's get this thing figured out, and maybe we can _all_ get back in one piece."


	12. Chapter 12

_0600_

As Walter had suggested, General Landry found Jack alone in the gym, gloves on his hands and the heavy bag taking a beating. "Have you been here all night?"

"Mostly."

Landry hadn't gotten much sleep himself, but it was better than nothing. After two nights without it, the other man was surely suffering. "Sit down, Jack."

If anything, the next tirade was harder. "I've done nothing but _sit_," he growled, punctuating it with the blows. "Almost two days now, and I've just sat here. I'm not a sitting type of guy, Hank."

"I know." He also knew Jack was likely picturing his own face on the punching bag – after all, Landry was the one who'd kept him on Earth, and the one who'd effectively cut him out of managing the situation. And while he still thought it was the right call, he could see how difficult it had been for the man in front of him to step aside. "Jim Rathbone died in surgery."

The gloves caught the bag and stilled it abruptly. "Yeah. I figured."

"Carolyn said his veins wouldn't hold the stitches. Wherever they tried to repair, it just got worse."

"I'm sure she did her best." Turning his back, he yanked the gloves off and began unwrapping the athletic tape from his hands. "Two months."

Landry left him the privacy his position afforded and asked, "What?"

"Two months tomorrow," he said again. "Eight weeks. Fifty-five days. After all the crap we had to go through, the letters, the hearings... it took so long. So the first time I kissed her was just two months ago. And now..." Now, he was days – maybe hours – from losing her forever. "We wasted so much damn time."

He'd never known Jack to be a man to be coddled, so Hank gave him the hard truth instead. "You still are."

The other man spun on him in surprise as the words hit home. Isolating himself in the gym was only cheating them out of the little time they might have left. With a nod, he set the gloves down and headed for the door.

"Jack," Hank called after him. "Do her a favor. Shower first."

~/~

Someone had chosen to close the dividers by the time Jack made it back to the infirmary. He couldn't decide if that was wise or foolish: when the next man goes down, it said, we don't want you to see what's going to happen to you.

It was depressing. But it was apt.

He tucked a corner back just far enough to slip through Carter's area and found her propped to sitting, a book in her lap, noticeably paler than the night before. Still, she smiled at him. "Hey."

"Hey." His own smile didn't quite get there. "I, uh... I wanted to apologize for last night. I should've-"

"You did the right thing," she interrupted. "I... needed a minute, myself. And if you'd come over here, I don't... I don't know what would've happened." And neither of them could afford to lose their composure with so many subordinates relying on them.

"I still feel like an ass about it." Which was why he stood awkwardly at the foot of her bed rather than slumped in his usual chair. "Did Landry at least say something profound and inspiring after I left?"

"Oh, yes. So profound that I immediately forgot it all. But maybe I'm just jaded – I've lived through a lot of those speeches."

"Yes, you have. Remember that. Did you get any sleep?"

She nodded. "A couple of hours. Have they located SG-13?"

"No word yet."

"And Daniel?"

"Still combing the village, trying to figure out what makes those people so special. By the time he's done sending samples, we'll have enough food here to throw a party," he joked.

"Well, it could be anything. Something in their diet, or the water. The materials they use to build their houses, even."

So he'd been told, but that only meant it would take longer. And time was something they no longer had in excess.

One pale, battered hand patted the mattress beside her, and he perched there. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Slowly, carefully, she began to leverage herself away from the pillows to sit on her own.

"Whoa, hey, I don't think you should do that." Especially after what had just happened to Rathbone. "Lay down."

"In a minute."

"No, you need to-"

"Jack." Her head landed ever so gently on his shoulder. The embrace was awkward, limited by her fatigue and the central line sticking out from her right collarbone, and it terrified him to know that one wrong move could leave her seriously injured – or worse. Still, he attempted to return the gesture, letting his fingers land weightlessly on the back of her white shirt.

She appreciated the effort more than she could possibly put into words. Determined to hang on to the moment, her senses documented everything about him: his scent, his broad shoulders, his stubble from yesterday's shave. He was warm and strong, the antithesis to her condition, and she would need to hold on to that. Because she wouldn't be able to hold on to him much longer. With her platelet levels quickly approaching critical, contact became riskier by the minute, and this would likely be their last. Maybe ever. Tilting her lips the tiniest bit toward his ear, she murmured, "I've been really happy with you, Jack."

The muscles in his jaw clenched hard against her cheek. And again, and again as he struggled for composure. The single word he managed was desperate. "_Don't_."

"Okay." Content to have gotten a few minutes close to him, she didn't need to push for goodbye yet. She hoped.

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

To Jack's credit, he didn't startle enough to jar her. "Teal'c," he said, and waited patiently for her to detangle herself and slip back onto the pillows.

"Keep me in the loop," she answered, and watched him go.


	13. Chapter 13

_0650_

General O'Neill kept to the side of the corridor, waiting for the medical team that had been summoned to rush past him at any moment. He chose to take it as good news – that SG-13 was still alive. That at least _part _of SG-13 was still alive.

Of course, it was entirely possible that the people sent to rescue them had been injured themselves, instead. So much for optimism, he thought. But when he stepped through the blast door into the Gate Room, it wasn't crowded with military men. Teal'c and Mitchell were nowhere to be seen. Captain Strong of SG-8, looking awfully woozy, stood on the ramp, supported by an SF and Doctor Daniel Jackson.

"Well," Jack announced. "You're not who I expected to see."

"Yeah. Uh, he slipped in one of the caverns near the city and whacked his head pretty hard." Handing the injured officer over to the medical team, Daniel headed down the ramp to talk to his former teammate. "I offered to bring him back. I... I wanted to check in on Sam. How is she?"

"Pluggin' along," he shrugged. Then, "Rathbone died."

He nodded. "They just told us. I swear, Jack, we've tried everything, but I just feel like... like we're not getting anywhere."

His reply was lost in the massive thump and whir as the Stargate began to spin up again. "Unscheduled offworld activation!" Walter's voice echoed through the PA.

"_That's_ Teal'c," he said instead, stepping out of the way of the gurney as it rolled back toward the infirmary. "Go get checked out. Carter'll be glad to see you."

He stayed, even as the PA announced that the returning teams were under fire and called more Security Forces to the Gate Room. Stepping back to let the men do their jobs, he waited as the barrage of primitive arrows flew harmlessly through the Gate. He waited as SG-12 stepped through. Then Teal'c and Mitchell. His heart fell a little as the last member of SG-5 stepped through.

And then, for the longest moment, he could only stare open-mouthed at the final team to emerge. They were grungy, beaten up, but _standing_. "What the..."

Teal'c's eyes found his. "They are not ill, O'Neill."

"Get to the infirmary. _Now_," he ordered, then beat them out the door. This had to be good news, and Jack would be the one to break it to her. If only to see her smile.

~/~

_0915_

"Knock, knock!"

General O'Neill tugged back one edge of the curtain to admit Colonel Dixon into Carter's little space. "Dave. It's good to see you."

"Sir." The two exchanged a strong handshake before Dixon turned to Sam. "Hangin' in there, I hear."

His cavalier attitude had always made her smile. "That's me."

"The guys are still getting checked out. I figured I'd make the rounds while I wait. Might be good for morale."

"Oh, it is," she assured him. "Just the fact that you're not sick means so much. It means there's an _answer_. There's something that works, because I have no doubt you were exposed just like the rest of us. Something was different for your team, and once we pin that down – I mean, what you ate or drank or-"

"Carter," Jack interrupted, knowing that the wind-up was just beginning. "Take it easy. The doc is working on it."

"Sam?" This time, it was Daniel who tugged the divider aside. "Sorry, I had to wait for my sonogram. Good news – I'm still not a Goa'uld."

"Excellent."

When she said no more, he pressed, "You okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just apparently not allowed to talk anymore. It's too taxing. Just ask Jack."

Dixon chuckled at the spat as the general rubbed the bridge of his nose. Clearly, she didn't like being sidelined. To change the subject and get the hell out of Dodge, Dave said, "As soon as the rest of the team's cleared, we're meeting in the Briefing Room. We'll get this hashed out."

The pat on the leg was intended as reassurance – a chummy move. But it sent both other members of SG-1 diving for him, and Jack's hand caught his just before contact. "Don't touch her." His voice was grave. "Don't touch any of them."

Taken aback, far more concerned than he'd been five minutes prior, the colonel nodded. "Got it. I'll see you upstairs."

"I'll stay with Sam," Daniel volunteered as the other man left.

Jack shook his head. "We need either you or Strong, and I hear he's waiting on a CT scan."

"I'm pretty sure I can survive on my own for an hour," the sick woman said dryly. "Really."

With a nod and a promise to return, the archaeologist ducked out. Jack sighed. "I'm sorry I cut you off. I'm just-"

"Hovering?" she asked gently.

"Yeah, well, I reserve the right." He'd always been terrible with words, relying on other forms of communication to get his feelings across. Small touches, holding hands, hugs... without them, he was lost. Finally, he contented himself with stroking the hair at her temple. "I'll be back."

She shrugged. "I'll be here."


	14. Chapter 14

_1000_

"Nineteen people went to P4X-124." Doctor Lam glanced up from her records to look around the conference table, packed with two generals, Walter, and two different SG teams. "Fifteen of those people are seriously ill or dead. Four," she said to SG-13, "are just fine. We need to figure out what you four did differently. As soon as possible. Sergeant Harriman has been looking at the reports, but this is quicker."

Dixon shrugged. "We took off for the planet after the SGC received intel from the Free Jaffa about a mineral that could be used as a possible weapon. We scouted the place, found the stuff, and brought back some samples. The nerds said it was better than a weapon, which I don't think is possible, but I don't suppose that matters."

Walter glanced up from the haphazard pile of open folders in front of him. "You negotiated with the locals, sir."

"Yeah, that, too."

"Let me guess – in the village," the doctor said.

"That only confirms what we already know, Doc." Jack sighed in frustration. "It's something in the village."

Ignoring him, she pressed, "Tell me everything you did while you were there. Everything."

Dixon frowned. "Balinsky. Go."

"Yes, sir," the archaeologist piped up. "Well, there was a fascinating welcoming ceremony involving prayers from what the called both the old and new religions, one in what could be considered a dialect of Ancient. They-"

To everyone's surprise, it was Daniel Jackson who cut him off first. "The abridged version. Please."

"Right. Uh, we met someone in the square who got the elders, there was a ceremony in the square, they offered us lodging. Much nicer than sleeping on the dirt, by the way."

"Was there anything special about these accommodations?" Lam asked. "The blankets, the buildings? Gifts?"

Colonel Dixon shook his head. "Wood and scratchy wool. The standard. Feather mattresses. And they didn't give us anything – no oils or perfumes or any of that crap."

"Okay. What about the food? Everything you ate and drank."

Brow furrowed, he glanced at Airman Wells for a good long moment before returning his gaze to the doctor. "You said all four of us came back clean? You're sure?"

"The organism is still in your blood," she explained. "But it's inactive, like in the villagers."

"Then it's not the food," Dixon said. "Or the water."

Jack leaned forward, interested. "How can you be sure?"

"Because Wells doesn't eat or drink anything the Air Force didn't send with him." With a shake of his head, he added, "Pansy."

"I learned my lesson in the two weeks I spent in the infirmary after M3C-978, sirs," the young man said. "I've never thrown up so much in my life."

"Well, Airman, your weak stomach has been very informative," Lam assured him. "So, not the food, not the water. Keep thinking; there's something else."

The four men glanced at each other. "Uh, Balinsky and I toured the place," Bosworth offered. "Including a temple that was kind of funky. But it was only the two of us."

She shook her head. "It's got to be all four of you."

"Doctor Lam?" One of the nurses stood in the doorway, a large floppy envelope at her side. "I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but I have Captain Strong's CT results. I... thought you should see them right away."

Immediately concerned, the older woman took the envelope and quickly withdrew the film, holding it up to the fluorescent lights above the table. After a long moment, she said, "Take them again."

"We... did, ma'am," the nurse answered uncertainly. "Twice. We had maintenance come check the scanner, too."

Though her arm fell away from the light, Lam still stared at the image in her hands, silent. It was Landry who prompted, "Is he all right?"

Her eyes flicked up abruptly, cold as ice. "He's probably concussed. But he's definitely irradiated."


	15. Chapter 15

"Radiation." Doctor Jackson was the first to find his voice. "You're kidding."

Jack glanced at his friend in concern. "Yeah. Uh... Daniel's kind of got a bad history with that sort of thing." And if Strong had been exposed, so had his teammate.

"They were in hazmat suits," Landry insisted. "Shouldn't that block the radiation?"

"Some of it. Not nearly all of it." The look in her eyes hadn't warmed a bit. "Can someone please explain to me how we sent _nineteen people_ to a radioactive planet?"

"I thought the MALP checked for that," Jack said, looking to his favorite sergeant for reassurance.

He got it. "It does, sir." The little man flipped quickly through the paperwork in his hands. "If the levels had been dangerous, the mission wouldn't have been approved. I'll find them."

"Perhaps someone should check the sensors," Lam suggested acerbically. "Because they're clearly not working."

"Uh..." All eyes turned to a nervous Walter Harriman, expecting him to admit that there had been a massive screw up. Instead, nervous, he said, "Respectfully, ma'am, I disagree. As I recall, Sergeant Siler requisitioned a lot of testing equipment when the radios stopped working. If he'd found anything, he would have put out the alert. Ah – here it is."

The doctor's brows furrowed as she examined the paper he handed her. "It's clean," she admitted. "But Captain Strong isn't."

"Well, he spent most of his time-"

"Oh, let me guess! In the village," Jack interrupted.

"Yes." The word was dry as Daniel glared at his friend for cutting him off.

"So, the people who went to the work site are sick, but the people who went to the village aren't," Landry surmised, "and at least one of the people from the village has been exposed to radioactive material. Dare we assume that the radiation is actually protecting these people?"

Lam nodded. "We'll check the blood samples from the villagers to be sure. We need to get in touch with SG-8 and tell them to find the source."

"Not to be insensitive here or anything," Colonel Dixon spoke up, earning a raised eyebrow from Jack and Teal'c, "but we were in that village for a _week_. Do we need to be concerned, here? I mean, I ain't exactly done havin' kids yet, and I don't really want a little two-headed green monster."

"Were there any pregnant women in the village?" the doctor asked with feigned patience.

"Yes, ma'am," Balinsky said.

"Were there any little two-headed green monsters in the village?"

Wells's cough covered his chuckle. "Not that we saw, ma'am."

"Then shut it, Colonel." To her father, she said, "I need very specific information. Wavelength, frequency, level of daily exposure. And if that's not something we can easily replicate on Earth, we may need to find a safe way for them to transport some of it through the Gate."

The table was silent a moment before Landry said woodenly, "You want to irradiate my base."

"Just the infirmary," she said. "I hope. There are precautions that can be taken."

"This is probably a stupid question," Wells spoke up, "but wouldn't it be safer to just take the infected people to the source instead of bringing it here?"

"You haven't seen them, have you?" Jack's soft, even tone was only alarming to his teammates, who knew him well. "It's far too late for that."

"It would have to be here," the doctor confirmed.

"What about the medical personnel?" Landry asked. "I realize that multiple people on my staff have already been exposed to this, but until we know more, I think we should keep that number as low as possible."

"We'll evacuate the infirmary. We'll... set up remote monitoring and only enter as necessary, with protective gear. Let's face it," she relented, "all we can do at this point is watch, anyway."

Eyes glued to the table, the general rubbed at his forehead for a long moment. Jack understood the choice clearly – allow an unknown, dangerous substance onto the base... or allow nearly a dozen people to die – and didn't envy him making it. But one of those dozen was _his_, and as far as he was concerned, there was no choice at all. "Hank."

It was a plea. And more than that, a reminder: those people had family. Loved ones. Children. "I want every precaution taken," the general said.

"Of course." She sucked in a breath to say something else, but held it a second between pursed lips. "I need to warn you."

Landry's response was nearly a growl. She'd gotten his agreement _before_ the warning? "Warn me about what?"

"Not you." No, she was looking past him – at Jack. "I need to warn you that... this may stop the progression of the damage, but it won't reverse it."

"Meaning what?" Daniel asked softly.

"Even if this works – even if the radiation kills off the organism – these people are incredibly sick. I can't guarantee you they'll all recover."

The men around the table let her somber words sink in, watching their friend and leader for a response. It took a while. "I'm sure you're doing your best. Excuse me."

The two-star's quick exit fairly well heralded the end of the meeting. Landry also got to his feet, and Dixon jumped at the chance. "We're not done with this conversation, Doc," he promised as he headed for the door.

"Oh, I'm sure we aren't."

"Uh... I swear I'll be less of an ass about it, but I would like a little more assurance than 'everyone on that planet is fine,'" Daniel said. "I'm sorry, I just... I've been down that road before. It wasn't pleasant."

"I understand." The smile she gave him was reassuring. "The information I get from SG-8 will help me determine what kind of dose everyone got. We'll go from there. It's just that – well, people who are standing on their own steam are a low priority right now."

That earned a smile in return. He didn't need to know immediately; after all, the damage was already done. "Of course. Thanks."


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: Nope, not done yet, but here's a little more. And more soon._

* * *

"_Yesterday_," Jack hissed, his pacing unrelenting regardless of the tiny space. "_Yesterday_, I said, 'If the answer's in the village, why don't we just take them there?' and she said it was pointless. And I was _right_, dammit, and-"

"Lower your voice, please," Sam chided softly, all too aware of the people outside her little curtains.

"I should have pushed the issue. For you, at least. We could have at least _tried_," he growled. "And now it's too risky."

"It was too risky for Major Rathbone then. We just didn't know it yet." And the other two members of his team, from what she'd heard, were in dire straits as well.

The pacing stopped abruptly. "God dammit, I want Doc Fraiser back."

Oh, so did she – with every breath. The loss only seemed to amplify as life events stacked up with no one to talk to, through her father's funeral and the end of her engagement and the beginning of the relationship she hoped would be _it_. And it seemed more likely to be her last with each passing moment, but that had nothing to do with losing Janet. "I'm sure Doctor Lam is doing her best, Jack."

"Well, it's not good enough." Scrubbing a hand through his gray hair, he muttered, "I don't know why I hired that woman."

There it was: at the root of it all, Jack blamed himself. She sighed. "Doctor Lam comes from the CDC, Jack. Strange diseases are kind of their thing. She's had more thrown at her in the past few months than anyone deserves, and she's taken it all in stride. How many people could do that and thrive?"

He grumbled something unintelligible.

"She reminds me of you, you know. Walking into a super-secret facility and taking charge like that, with no idea what you'll face from day to day – it takes guts. She's strong, and she's fearless."

Whatever she'd said, it was wrong. The rage dissipated entirely too quickly, leaving him slumped in the chair with an expression she didn't recognize. "I'm not fearless," he admitted quietly. "I'm-"

It wasn't necessarily the sudden halt that bothered her, but the odd way he was looking at her. "What?" she asked as he tugged the curtain back and called, "Nurse!"

"What?" Her heart started pounding in her chest, and that wasn't a good thing in her condition. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Lieutenant Mayes ducked her head through the curtain. "Sir?"

"Her eye. What's wrong with her eye?"

The nurse took one glance, saw the panic evident on Sam's face, and stepped up to the bed. "It's nothing, Colonel, I promise. A blood vessel in your eye has ruptured, but it's one of those things that looks far scarier than it is."

Jack stared at the floor. "Right. I just-"

"It's okay. It's not uncommon even in healthy people, and we've been seeing a lot of it. The sergeants have it, too. It looks bad," Mayes conceded, "but it's okay. Is there anything else I can get you, Colonel? More water, or..."

"No. Thank you," Sam said, and the young woman stepped out. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry."

"Is it really bad?"

His gaze landed on hers and immediately shifted so slightly she probably wasn't supposed to notice. "No," he lied. "Not at all."

Well, there went any more deep, meaningful time together, if he wouldn't look at her. She closed her eyes a moment.

And then opened them. "You know," she said, "your plan could still work. For one person, anyway. And that one person could teach us a lot."

It took a long moment for him to process her meaning before he pulled the curtain aside and headed toward Airman Stolz.


	17. Chapter 17

_1130_

If Hank had any ideas about this post healing his relationship with his daughter, they were being crushed early and hard. While he had no doubts in her qualifications for the job or the situation, they seemed to be at odds every step along the way.

Maybe, he thought, because his concern had to be the base as a whole, and her concern had to be a few of the people in it. And maybe that was what she'd seen from him her entire life – that his self-constructed "greater good" had stolen him from what she deemed important. He wondered if the others in Airman Stolz' cubicle could feel the ice radiating off her as she prepared the young man to travel, but ducked out through the curtain before Jack could say anything.

But the other general, triumphant, stepped out as well, leaving Landry to duck into the next curtain over. "Sergeant Siler," he greeted. "How are you?"

The thin man raised a heavy, fatigued arm to salute, but Hank waved him off. Siler tugged his oxygen mask down, instead. "Oh, fine, sir. I wish I could be out there on the search for whatever this is, though."

"I think a lot of people would feel better if you were," he conceded, "but it's not a good idea." The man was even paler than usual but for the tiny purple dots all over his skin. His left eye had hemorrhaged. "I thought some of the other techs were here."

"They were, sir. But Sergeant Wieste deployed to help find the radiation source, and the others are building a containment vessel to get it back here safely."

That figured – Siler and his team were some of the hardest workers on the base. "Do you have faith in them?"

"Yes, sir. They're good people, sir."

"Good. Then keep your chin up, Sergeant. The answer's coming."

"Yes, sir." Slowly, carefully, the NCO lifted the oxygen mask from his chin and put it back over his mouth.

Through the next curtain lay SG-11 – the worst of them all. Sergeant Paris sat between the two beds where he'd pulled back the curtain, and though his back was to Landry, the white strap of the sling on his arm was obvious.

That broken arm had kept him on Earth. And had maybe saved his life.

"I promise, baby, I'm fine," he told the phone in his other hand. "One hundred percent A-okay. I just gotta stay here awhile."

Unlike the other patients he'd seen, the cots were completely flat, the men unmistakeably ill. Both occupants lay perfectly still but for the gentle rise and fall of their breathing through fogged-up masks. There would be far more equipment if Carolyn could risk it, he knew, but almost everything had been removed or left unused after Major Rathbone's death. Only the small monitors on their index fingers remained, tethered to softly beeping monitors.

"No, no, I'm not in trouble. Babe, I swear to you."

Captain Menard was asleep, but Sergeant James caught a glimpse of the general through his blood-red eyes and raised a frail hand to point at him – the only movement he could manage. But it caught Paris' attention; he turned and nearly dropped the phone in surprise. "General, sir."

"As you were," Landry told him quickly.

"Thank you, sir." To the phone, he said, "I love you. I'll be home soon," and placed it back in its cradle. "Trace is gonna be really ripped up about the major. She really liked him. I don't want to tell her until I can be there."

Considering that official notifications hadn't been done yet, it was probably best that way. The general just nodded.

"Any news?"

"SG-8 is on the lookout for the source of the radiation," he said. "Now that we know what we're dealing with, SG-7 is headed out to meet them with better test gear. They're estimated to reach the village in three hours. And Airman Stolz has agreed to deploy, as well, to help us gauge the necessary dose."

"Yes, sir," Paris said. "We... heard."

So the argument between General O'Neill, his daughter, and himself had reached the entire infirmary. Landry sighed inwardly.

"Tell him we're all pulling for him," the sergeant went on. "I hope it helps."

Glancing at the two prone men, he said, "I hope it helps everyone."

"Me, too." The voice was weak and heavily muffled by Sergeant James's oxygen mask.

Smiling, Landry opened his mouth to answer, but a nurse popped through the curtain with a cart of beverages. "Lunchtime!" she announced. "I know you both are just dying for your nutritional shakes and... this stuff." The glass she swirled was full of cloudy liquid – likely the medications the men could no longer risk swallowing in pill form.

Paris slid his chair out of the way with his good arm before helping his teammate gingerly remove the breathing mask. "I'll give you a hand."

"And I'll just get out of the way," the general offered. "Hang in there, fellas. We're gonna get this figured out."


	18. Chapter 18

_1400_

"Jack told him this was voluntary, right?"

"Yes."

"I mean, _actually_ voluntary," Sam pressed. "No threats or coercion or-"

"He's not in the mob, you know," Daniel interrupted. The fast beeping of her heart monitor along with the commotion from outside her little partition couldn't possibly be good for her. "Take a breath."

"I know he's not. But I know how he gets. When it's me."

Yes, his best friend did tend to lose his cool more often when a member of his team – especially Sam – was in danger. "This is best for Airman Stolz, too," he said. "The village is his best shot."

"If he lives through the wormhole," she pointed out.

"He's not nearly as sick as the rest of you. We have every reason to believe he'll make it," he soothed.

"And we had every reason to believe Major Rathbone would survive his transfusion, or Doctor Lam wouldn't have tried it in the first place. And it killed him. And she still thinks this is a good idea?"

Actually, no, the doctor was entirely against the idea. So he had no response to that except, "You really need to take some breaths, Sam. It's not good for you to be upset."

She shook her head. "We need to call this off."

"It was your idea!" he insisted. Maybe the clatter was for the best – the young man they were transporting definitely didn't need to hear her misgivings.

"I know that. You know what I don't know? His first name," she said. "How old he is. What his plans are. He's a kid, Daniel. I don't think I want him taking this sort of risk for me."

The archaeologist sighed. "His name is Jerry. And it's not just for you, Sam. Captain Menard and Sergeant James are far sicker than you are, and there are five more people right on your heels."

Her eyes slipped shut, and Daniel was a tiny bit grateful not to have to ignore the horrid looking red one for a minute. "I know that," she said after a bit. "I just..."

"Don't want to lose someone else. I understand." Because another death just made hers loom larger. "Tell me something, Sam: if you were in his position – the only one who could make the trip and potentially save a lot of lives – would you?"

"You know I would."

"That's exactly what he's doing. So let him, okay?"

A sigh puffed out as she tried to relax against the pillows, but the noise of Airman Stolz being prepped for transport rang through the thin curtain as though it wasn't even there. She managed to still everything but her big toe, which waved a bit as though tapping a vertical floor.

"Now, how are _you_ doing?" Daniel asked, trying to change the subject.

She shrugged. "I'm starting to feel it."

"Starting to?"

"I'm starting to feel it more than I'd like," she edited. "My back is black and blue just from the pressure of laying here, and this – this is from nothing at all." One thin arm lifted to display a grid of purple dots – tiny spontaneous hemorrhages, he knew, and it absolutely terrified him. "It's been five days, Daniel."

"I know." And none of the dead soldiers had survived six. "You weren't exposed as long as they were. You're not as sick yet."

"Yeah." Her smile was fake. "Yet. Any news from the planet?"

"Not yet. SG-7 just arrived with the full radiation gear."

So it would be slow going. She nodded. "I understand."

He let his hand hover over her smaller one for a moment in exchange for real contact. "Well, I suppose I should go gear up."

"Gear up? For where?"

"I'm headed back with Airman Stolz. I mean, I've already been exposed, so..."

"So more radiation probably isn't a good idea," she pressed. "And I – I mean, when would you be back?"

"Well, it's four hours to the village. Five, probably, with an injured man. And then however long it takes to find an answer."

He had to hold back the impulse to tell her not to bite her lip as she said simply, "Right."

"What's wrong?"

"Four hours," she said with a shrug. "If something happens..."

"If something happens, I'll come back."

"Yeah. In four hours."

She had a point – Major Rathbone had gone from nearly fine to bleeding out in seconds. "Sam, you'll be-"

He stopped as the curtain pulled back and Jack stuck his head in. "Hey. Stolz is all set. I thought I'd see him off. You mind?"

She shook her head, and when she answered, Daniel was pretty sure his friend didn't hear the fear and resignation in her voice. "No."

"Okay. I'll be back. Let's go, Daniel – no time to lose." And he was gone.

"Be safe out there," Sam said quietly, staring at her hands. "I'll see you when you get back."

But she didn't believe that; he could tell. She just couldn't bring herself to say goodbye. More, if he left her, she'd be truly alone – Cam was napping, Teal'c was in the cafeteria, and Jack had gone to the Gate Room. With a sigh, he grabbed for the phone near her bed. "Hey, Walter? It's Daniel. Would you, uh... Would you tell the general I think I'll stay here? Thanks."

The receiver wasn't even back on the hook before she said, "You don't have to do that."

"Yeah," he answered softly. "Yeah, I think I do."


	19. Chapter 19

_1530_

"Knock, knock."

No answer came from inside the curtains, so Cam slowly peeked around the hem before stepping inside. General O'Neill, sprawled in his normal chair, cracked one eye to identify the intruder, then closed it again. Daniel, though, rolled his head back to vertical. "Enjoy your nap?"

"Do I sense judgment there, Jackson?" he asked as the archaeologist stretched out the kinks in his neck.

"No, no judgment. Jealousy, maybe, but not judgment."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's more than one bunk in this place, you know."

"I know. But Sam seems to want us to stick around, so..."

"The feeling's mutual." To the woman resting on the bed, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"She finally fell asleep a little bit ago."

Cam glanced from the computer display near her bedside to Jackson and back. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. What's up?"

He shrugged. "I thought her heart rate last night was more like sixty-two." But the monitor read seventy-one, so he must have been wrong.

Daniel made a face at him. "You're a pilot _and_ a doctor now?"

"No; I was just bored. But I've slept since then, you know, so-"

"Lucky devil," the other man grunted. "Have you seen Teal'c?"

"One of the nerds caught him in the hallway for something. He jumped at it – I think he's going a little stir crazy down here – and when Mister Stoic is losing it, that really says something. But I can page him, if you want."

"No, no, that's fine." Daniel would have a stroke if someone paged him to the infirmary with Sam this ill; he wouldn't do it to Teal'c.

Digging the banana he'd snagged from the cafeteria from his pocket, Cam settled into a chair near the foot of the bed and started to peel it... only to stop at the tingle of someone watching him.

It was Jackson, and he wasn't looking at the colonel, but at the fruit he held. Intently. Freakishly so.

"Uh... hungry?" he asked, offering it out.

The other man snatched it up. "You're a good guy, Cam."


	20. Chapter 20

_1720_

"I think I hate this planet already." Major Long's voice echoed dully through the hood of his radiation suit. "And the fact that it could kill me isn't even on top of the list."

"What is, sir?" Sergeant Biggins thought better of reminding SG-7's CO that he'd already been here nearly two days with SG-8. And unlike Major Long, he hadn't had a radiation suit the whole time.

"It's the dirt," the older man said. "The red. The desert. I grew up in Arizona. I hate desert."

He had a point – the dirt was a burnished color for as far as the eye could see in any direction. They navigated by Geiger counter, conferring often with two other groups as they attempted to triangulate the source of the radiation. "Stupid question, sir?"

"Just a second." Major Long scribbled something in his notebook and keyed his radio. "This is SG-niner. 3 kliks north, levels decreasing from six-point-five roentgens an hour. Turning east."

"Copy, SG-niner," came another voice. "SG-Bravo, continuing west toward you. Levels increasing at eight roentgens an hour. Estimate three kliks."

"Okay, Biggins," the major said. "Shoot."

"Why are we still here? If radiation cures this thing, take them to a cancer ward or something, right? We have plenty of this stuff on Earth."

"If only it were that simple. Different isotopes react differently in the body – like iodine gets used for the thyroid stuff, and strontium gets pulled into your bones. This isotope isn't one we know. At least, it isn't one this thing knows." Holding up his left arm, bulky in its suit, he shook the large isotope identifier he held. "Newfangled technology, you know. Never works when you need it."

"Yes, sir."

"I wouldn't worry too much about exposure, if that's your hangup," the Major continued. "All signs point to the villagers getting about eleven hundred millirems a year. That's well within safe limits."

Biggins turned his head to look at the other man, but only got a good view of the inside of his suit. "There are safe limits?"

"Yup. Some people say we even need some radiation for optimum health. You get about four hundred millirems a year just sitting in Colorado Springs."

"Really?"

"This is SG-Charlie," the radio spouted. "Reached western border, headed north. Levels increasing at seven roentgens."

"Copy that," Major Long answered before muttering something that Bigging could only make out as, "Damn Murphy."

"Sir?"

"Ahead in the distance and a little bit south, Sergeant."

The older man pointed with his large orange glove, and Biggins followed the line forward, forward... "You don't think it's that, do you?"

"Of course it is." Grid be damned, Long headed straight for it – an enormous rock structure. It looked daunting even from nearly a mile away. "SG-Alpha, this is SG-niner."

"Go ahead, SG-niner," Colonel Bates responded from the village.

"I think we found it, sir. We should contact the base. We're gonna need better gear."


End file.
